Lukas wandered around the house, his curiosity getting the better of him. He found himself glancing at Anastasia's closed door, wondering what her story was. Why was he becoming increasingly fascinated with her? It bothered him, this growing interest. He didn't need distractions, not now.
As he paced, Anastasia emerged from her room, her face calm and serene. She noticed Lukas's restless movements but ignored him, settling into a chair by the window. She pulled out a notebook and began to write, her hand moving deftly across the page.
Lukas's gaze drifted toward her, and he noticed that her hair was now cut shorter, framing her face in a way that accentuated her features. The resemblance to...well, to someone he couldn't quite place, was even more striking now. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched her, his mind struggling to reconcile the past and present.
Lukas's drawn-out attraction to Anastasia was now reaching its peak, and he found himself daring to ask her directly what her name was. He couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation, unsure of how she would react to his question.
Anastasia looked up from her writing, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "You didn't know my name?" she asked, her voice calm, but with a touch of amusement. It seemed to calm her a bit, as if she wasn't sure she wanted him to know what her name was.
"I suppose we're not familiar enough for you to know my name," she said, her tone measured. "There's no need for you to address me in a familiar way." Lukas felt a mix of emotions: curiosity, attraction, and a dash of relief that she hadn't lashed out at him. Maybe he was happy that she responded calmly, without anger or hostility.
He sat down opposite her, his gaze drawn to her face, but Anastasia's eyes remained fixed on her papers, her pen moving across the page with a soft scratching sound. She was lost in her poems, her thoughts and emotions pouring onto the page.
Just then, Babushka walked into the room, a warm smile spreading across her face as she took in the scene. Lukas and Anastasia sat opposite each other, quiet and still, the only sound the soft scratch of Anastasia's pen on paper. Babushka's smile seemed to say that she knew something Lukas didn't, something about the dynamics between him and Anastasia.
Babushka's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she turned to Lukas. "I need a favor, Lukas. I need you to pick up some medicine from the outskirts of town. It's crucial for one of our villagers, and I wouldn't normally ask, but...well, I think you'd be the best person for the job."
Lukas's face clouded with worry, and a look of fear flickered in his eyes. He didn't voice his concerns, but Anastasia seemed to sense his unease. "You want him to go get something alone?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "What if a Soviet soldier catches him and notices the...obvious difference?"
Babushka's expression turned slightly irritated, as if Anastasia's words had struck a nerve. Lukas remained silent, but he was thrilled that Anastasia's concern seemed to stem more from fear of him getting caught rather than any perceived danger he might pose.
Babushka's response, however, didn't ease Anastasia's worries. "I'd like you to follow him, Anastasia," she said, and Anastasia's face darkened with anger.
"Are you kidding me?" Anastasia snapped, her words laced with venom. "What if he hurts me on our journey? You know I can take care of myself, but still...Why are you sending him out when his leg isn't even fully healed yet?"
Lukas's thrill quickly turned to sadness as he met Anastasia's angry gaze. He wondered if her concern was genuine or if she simply didn't want to be bothered with him. Babushka's calm demeanor didn't help to ease the tension.
"Someone else will be going with you," Babushka said, her voice smooth. "Vladimir will accompany you and watch over you. He's a trusted friend, and I know he'll keep you safe."
Anastasia's expression remained skeptical. "If you already have someone to go along with him, why don't they just go? And how can you send him out when he's still recovering?"
Babushka's eyes locked onto Anastasia's, a hint of firmness in her voice. "I'm sending you with him because only you know about his nationality, Anastasia. You can help cover for him if anyone asks questions. And I'm sending him because I want him to start pulling his weight. We can't have the community start prying into an idle refugee living with me. It's not safe for any of us."
Lukas watched the exchange, his eyes flicking between Anastasia and Babushka. He wondered what lay ahead, and whether he'd be able to prove himself worthy of their trust.
Anastasia's eyes narrowed as she gazed at Babushka, her mind racing with concerns. She wasn't convinced that sending Lukas to retrieve the medicine was a good idea, especially with Vladimir, an ex-Russian Empire soldier, accompanying him. Vladimir might be an old man, but he was sharp and observant, and Anastasia knew he wouldn't miss the key differences that set Lukas apart.
She pulled Babushka aside, her voice low and urgent. "Why are you doing this, Babushka? You're putting him in a situation where he could be caught, where Vladimir could...figure him out."
Babushka's response was unexpected. She chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm an old lady, Anastasia. I've seen it all before."
Anastasia's frustration boiled over, but she bit back her retort. She couldn't get mad at Babushka, not when the older woman's intentions were always good. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. I'll do it. But I'm doing it for the sick, not for him."
Babushka's smile softened, and she placed a gentle hand on Anastasia's arm. "I know, dear. You're doing it for the right reasons." Anastasia's gaze lingered on Babushka's face, searching for answers, but the older woman's expression remained serene, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint.
As they discussed the plan, they decided that tomorrow would be the best day for Lukas and Vladimir to head out and retrieve the medicine. Lukas, however, felt a growing sense of unease as he realized how little he knew about his surroundings. He turned to Babushka, curiosity getting the better of him. "Excuse me, Babushka, but what city are we in? Or at least, what's the nearest city?"
Anastasia's reaction was instantaneous. Her face darkened, and she spun around, her eyes blazing with anger. "You don't even know where you are?" she spat, her voice low and venomous. "You're a refugee, and you don't know what city you're in? What kind of refugee are you?"
Lukas felt taken aback by her outburst, but before he could respond, Anastasia stormed off, leaving him feeling confused and frustrated. Babushka watched her go, a look of concern etched on her face, but she said nothing, simply shaking her head slightly.
Babushka's eyes gazed thoughtfully into the distance as she muttered to herself, "It may be harder than I thought." She looked at Lukas and said, "You told me she really does hate you with a burning passion. I was hoping you could quench some of that fire, but you haven't managed to do that."
Lukas's frustration was palpable as he spoke to Babushka. "She makes me confused, Babushka. I ask her name, and she responds calmly, but she loses it at me asking what city we're in."
Babushka's expression was understanding as she replied, "It's because you make her confused as well, Lukas. Her hatred for you and what you represent conflicts with her nature as a good person. She's torn between her feelings and her conscience, and it's causing her a great deal of inner turmoil."
Lukas nodded feeling a sense of resignation "I know what I am and I know what I've done, maybe she's right to hate me."
Babushka expression was Sympathetic. "It's not about what you've done, Lukas. It's about what you represent. You're a reminder of things she'd rather forget."
Lukas realized Babuska wasn't going to tell him directly but she's signaling Anastasia had witnessed loss during the war. Babushka tells him to rest "it's a bit of a walk to the outskirts." She says as she walks into Anastasia's room.